


periculum

by therewithasmile



Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Belligerent Sexual Tension, F/M, Uprising
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-30
Updated: 2017-08-12
Packaged: 2018-11-06 18:10:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11041533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therewithasmile/pseuds/therewithasmile
Summary: AU: in which Sara Ryder was aboard the Nexus instead of the Hyperion. She finds herself in the middle of the Uprising and the target of the rebellion, until a certain Latino pilot saves her – promising adrenaline and danger she never realized she craved.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First of all -- I don't know how long this is going to be. I'm ballparking 3 chapters for now so I don't let this spin out of control.
> 
> So here's the thing: when I played Andromeda, I couldn't decide between Liam or Jaal because none of them really resonated with me. I teetered towards Vetra, and then I met Reyes. My Ryder had put a lot on herself to be the new Pathfinder, trying to live up to her father's memory, and in doing so, suppressed a lot of her own desires and passion and thrill-seeking ways. Reyes was all of that wrapped up in a delicious package, and so she saw that all through to the end. 
> 
> I've always wondered about the half of Andromeda we don't get to experience, and what happened to Reyes during the mutiny and what not. And then I wanted to throw Sara in. So some of it is a bit all over the place as I focus down on the complex relationship Sara had with the Nexus as the only person with a Pathfinder link, but not a Pathfinder herself. Another is trying to explore Reyes a bit more so I can understand who he is. Another is trying to capture that dangerous element that Reyes exudes that charms Ryder, how the two have this dangerous magnetism even though there's part of them that knows they're bad/not really right for each other, and yet in many ways they are. 
> 
> Anyhow.

She remembers seeing him at the bar, with slicked black hair and hazel eyes. His fingers play with the rim of his glass, swirling a dark liquor in a languid motion. He notices her first, and his lips curve up into a half-crumpled smile. _Charming,_ she thinks, and there’s something youthful in his visage. She can’t help it; she’s mesmerized as he lifts the glass to his lips, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows, and he lowers his drink with half a sigh and another glance. But she’s not here to be picked up by some handsome man, Latino when it still mattered. Sara Ryder pulls her fingers through her caramel-brown tresses and looks away deliberately, trying her best to ignore that stare that follows her as she picks her way through the bar. And yet halfway through the night, in between the delicious swirl of alcohol and haze of thoughts half-formed as a result, she can’t help but to glance back at the stranger – and the one instance of contact sends electricity cracking down her spine.

* * *

When the first rounds of gunfire break out, Sara Ryder had – quite honestly – seen it all coming.  

She ducks when a _ping_ rings out, and she swears she can hear the _woosh_ of a bullet fly too close to her face. Ryder leaps over a crate and slides down, gritting her teeth as she feels the burn of her civvies against the glass flooring. But her desperate lunge hadn’t gotten her far enough, and with a slowly dawning realization, as if in slow motion, Sara realizes she’s still in the cross-fire, too liable to get shot, and if she knew any better – she’d be the first one dead.

That is, until hand firmly grasps her collar, and before she knows what’s happening, she’s yanked out of the way. Just in time, too, as another gunshot rings out, echoing loudly in the mostly abandoned atrium, and the sound of angry voices swell in her absence. Sara herself barely catches her breath before she whips her head around, the cool rush of biotics already focused to her clenched fists, ready to attack –

Until she locks gazes with hazel eyes.

There’s a brief bewilderment in his face, too, eyebags carved deep into his skin as if he hadn’t slept for days. And yet, they crinkle as he smiles – that same crooked smile that she remembers so fleetingly – and his eyebrow arches before he speaks.

“Attacking the person who saved your life?”

Sara exhaled through her nose, lowering her fist. “Sorry. And thank you,” she added as an afterthought.

“No harm done,” says her mysterious saviour, and as she suspected, his voice had a light Spanish accent that she vaguely recalled hearing back in the Milky Way. And then the warmth in his eyes suddenly cools, and he presses his back against the crate that he’d all but shoved them behind, peering around the corner with a grimace. “Didn’t think this was all going to start today,” he says, and it’s almost _conversational._ “I had a feeling, but not for another week at least.”

Sara thinks she knows what he’s going on about, and she watches as he draws his gun, the magazine hissing as he ejects the clip and smacks a new one in. “Sorry about the roughhousing, by the way. Now, shall we?”

So maybe she doesn’t _really_ know what he’s on about. “Excuse me?”

“We’re getting out of here,” he said unflinchingly, not even turning to acknowledge her as he peers once more around the crate. “Unless you want to stay here and get caught in the crossfire.”

As if on cue, another gunshot rings out, pinging in the hyper-modern atrium of the Nexus. Sara narrows her eyes, despite all of it. Her hands jump to her holster, until she bites back a curse. Of course she didn’t bring her gun – she hadn’t for a couple months while she’d been awakened on the Nexus. Because she _trusted_ the Initiative – and yet, judging by the amount of gunfire she’d heard in the last ten minutes, that was not a sentiment shared by many.

“I’m not going anywhere with someone I don’t know, even if he did save my life,” she says firmly. The dark-haired stranger _finally_ looks back at her, gun cocked and another half-smirk on his face.

“Of course, where are my manners? Reyes Vidal – pilot. Oh and you don’t have to introduce yourself,” he adds. “You’re quite famous on the Nexus aren’t you, Ryder?”

Sara purses her lips. _Of course._ Vidal’s smile only grows at her scowl. “I’ll keep you safe,” he says, almost diplomatically. “ _You’re_ the reason the Rebels have finally opened fire – and it would be terrible if something bad happened to you.”

 _‘Like my father?_ ’, Sara can’t help but to think bitterly, lip curling at the thought. Her father, who hadn’t shown up yet at the Nexus, who’s absence, along with the Hyperion, was the cause of panic in the first place. She knew what she represented, what her lineage meant, and yet to think that the rebellion was caused because they wanted a shot at her? Sara could see from Vidal’s face that he was watching her process the information. After giving her a few more moments to digest the information before he stood up from his squat. “Time to move, Ryder.”

And with that, he sidled over to the other side of the crate, raising his gun and aimed forward. While her feet may have followed him, her mind was still reeling, trying to process the information. So the rebellion started… because of her? _It doesn’t make sense,_ she thought, as she took the stairs in twos as they ran down to the shuttle system.

“Keep watch, will you?” Vidal’s voice interrupts her from her thoughts, and Sara blinks.

“I’m unarmed,” she says, and she allows her eyes to drift from the jut of his chin and linger on the gun still in his grasp. As if to make _his_ stance more clear, Vidal’s grip only tightens around the grip.

“Now Ryder, I would think that a biotic is simply incapable of being unarmed,” Vidal replies smoothly, but he doesn’t say much as he turns around, omnitool out, fingering codes quicker than Sara could really register. So she sighs and closes her eyes, that ice-cool sensation spreading from her implant and flowing into her limbs. The power concentrates into her hand, and as she clenches it into a fist, she feels the energy spike, as if growing exponentially in her fingertips. But luckily, no one seems to be trying to reach the shuttles – at least right now – and the metallic hiss of the shuttle doors behind her informs her of the successful override.

“You have the codes?” Sara mutters as she unclenches her fist, feeling the power in her fist disperse from its build up. Vidal only turns and smiles, that same oddly crooked smile that she begins to suspect is more than merely mischievous.

They duck into the shuttle after his gesture, and it takes another fancy fiddling with his omnitool before the shuttle doors close. The air around their shuttle vibrates as Sara feels the mass effect technology power around them, and before she knows it, the familiar muted roar of sound faint in her ears. Vidal sighs and leans against a windowed pane, pushing his fingers into his temples.

“They’re trying to kill me,” Sara says slowly, and this time – the implication does sink in. Maybe the gunshot wasn’t random at all; maybe the bullet that was close to skimming the top of her skull was meant to sink between her eyes. Maybe she had always known, and was in denial because – if she were alive, maybe it meant her Dad was. And Scott. And the Hyperion.

Yet she knew the underlying murmurs of doubt, growing louder and louder as days blurred to weeks then _months_ , as hope fizzled to almost a stop upon her awakening. And it was all because –

“—You carry the Pathfinder name,” Vidal said, and for a moment, his voice actually sounds a bit _tired_. “And yet this is unsurprising – we were always doomed to revert to a carnal understanding of the world. As if you’re a royal princess.”

“And if the rebels kill me, they overthrow the Initiative.” Sara can’t keep the bitterness from her voice, and suddenly she wishes for nothing but a familiar gun, nestled in a familiar holster, to be around her hip. She’s so _naïve,_ she thinks – when she had first awakened, there was lively activity. Happiness, _hope_ , because as the Great Alec Ryder’s daughter, maybe she could fill his shoes when he’d been gone for so long. She’d trusted the Initiative, because it was _her_ people and maybe, just maybe, her father’s baby – and the last thing she’d ever expected were those people she trusted, that were handpicked by her Father and his collaborators, would point a gun to her face.

“Thank you.” Her voice echoes oddly in the shuttle, displaced by the sound of their shuttle whooshing through the network. Vidal only glances at her before flipping his gun to the side.

“Don’t thank me yet,” he says, almost gravely.

The shuttle doors slide open with a cheerful _ding_ , and the still-flickering blue-purple silhouette of Avina greets them with a wave. Her robotic voice begins to go off, welcoming them to the Docking Bay, but she ignores the wind-chime, overly-enthusiastic voice of the VI and Sara instead raises her fists, pivoting to cover as Vidal begins to move.

“Military training, I like it,” he whistles. And it might’ve been coy had it not been the fact that he’s pointing his gun forward too. Sara merely scoffs, her eyes peeled for the briefest signs of movement. Vidal’s steps suddenly stop, and Sara would’ve crashed into him had his slim fingers not caught the tip of her elbow. She’s only confused for a few moments, as a gravelly voice that was unmistakeably human growls out only two words.  

“Surrender Ryder.”

Sara readies her fist, but Vidal’s fingers press more urgently, as if telling her to stop. She feathers an exhale and chances a glance as far as her miniscule head movements and peripheral vision allows – and she sees a man pointing a gun at Vidal and, with she realizes with a jolt, two other men flanking his side doing the same. Sara doesn’t understand what’s fueling Vidal, and she half expects that hand on her elbow to suddenly twist and thrust her in between. She can’t trust anyone here – not without her gun, not without her father and brother by her side.

But Vidal _doesn’t_ suddenly throw her over. Instead, he says a very firm “No”.

And he fires just one round, the sound like a cracking whip and deafening to Sara’s ears. Yet she stills her mind and ignores the ringing that suddenly surrounds her, muscling her instincts in order as she releases the buildup of biotic energy at the other two men. This time, there _is_ a sickening crunch as the two men are thrown backwards – and, to Sara’s shock, two more shots ring out as her targets crumple to the ground, dead.

“I _do_ like your military training,” Vidal says, but Sara ignores him and smacks his arm instead.

“You didn’t have to kill them!”

“No?” Vidal doesn’t seem taken aback, only icily calm as he regards her, hazel eyes no longer warm or amused. “They were going to kill you. And I believe I said I wouldn’t let that happen.”

There’s some sort of expression that crosses his gaze, and for a moment, Sara’s sent back to the time they’d seen each other in the bar. With a jolt, she realizes she can finally place what that feeling was – the odd electricity that shot down her spine, the haze in his eyes that made her heart stutter erratically. It’s _danger._

Part of her isn’t sure whether she should be swooning or on her guard, but Vidal seems to not pay much mind as he takes several leaping bounds forward and glance down at the bodies that he’d shot at point blank. He merely curls his lips instead before turning expectantly to her. Doubt begins to seep into her mind – she knows she’s doing something reckless, and _certainly_ her brother would have a lot to say if he could see her now.

But he’s not here. And nor was dad. And she was done being the naïve little girl who was defenseless and too trusting on the Nexus.

Sara merely nods, and another expression flashes into his hazel eyes. There’s another small upturn of his lips as he raises his gun once more, leading her towards the civilian headquarters.

And in what could have been several hours or merely heartbeats, they arrive at the crossroad. But before Sara can question it, Vidal veers to the left, away from the civilian headquarters and towards –

“—The cargo bay?”

“Hmm?” Vidal turns, eyebrows knitting together in an expression that did not fool her. Ryder plants her foot down, though, and refuses to move even as his lips part.

“You’re leaving?” Sara manages.

“Well of course I am,” Vidal responds, as if it’s the most obvious answer in the world. “The Nexus is going to be a shithole – well, more than it already is – and it’s not like staying here will benefit me at all.”

_Ah._

She’s stupid, Sara realizes, and though she had just moments ago told herself she was too trusting – she’d done it all over again. Sara always knew she wasn’t ready to be the Pathfinder; she knew that there was too much trust in her and she was simply too trusting. She didn’t even realize she trusted him until now, and if anything it was just another wound, another betrayal during this entire mutiny.

“You’re a rebel.”

“Not quite,” Vidal says. “I’d prefer _opportunist._ ”

“Well, thank you for taking me this far,” Sara says firmly, and before he can take a step towards her, she raised her already-blue fists in anticipation. “I wish you luck getting off-world.”

And there it is again, that half-smile that, now, was much more dubious than she’d originally pegged it to be. “Did I forget to mention?” She notices now that he’s no longer holding his gun in both hands, but merely ­ _one;_ in the other she can faintly make out the glean of metal. An EMP, she realizes, and she knows she’s too late.

“I’m kidnapping you, Ryder.”

* * *

By the time Sara wakes up, she realizes with a jolt that she’s on a ship. The safety straps dig uncomfortably into her skin as she tries to wiggle and test her range of movement, both of which proving to be on the fruitless side. With a jolt, she realizes that what’s beyond her range of vision isn’t blackness, but the yawning abyss that was the galaxy.

“Vidal?” She snarls, and a bit of surprise overtakes her as the man himself twists his head around the edge of the pilot seat.

“Ryder,” he merely says, and Sara hates that nothing in his voice is apologetic.

“Let me free.”

“By all means,” Vidal says pleasantly. “You’ll find the release clasp to your right.” Sara blinks and looks down – and she seethes when she sees what he means: the red, innocent release button, tempting like a big button she knows she shouldn’t push. “Sorry for the tightness; didn’t want you to hit your head while you were passed out.”

After the internal debate, Sara absolves that nothing else could really be worse right now. So when she presses the red release clasp, she’s a bit surprised to hear the belts hiss quietly as they retract from her figure. She rubs along the indents of her arms and legs where the bindings had particularly dug in, and she stands up, bracing one hand on his chair, the other cloaked in blue biotic energy.

“Turn it around,” Sara hisses, each syllable punctuated by another pulse of blue.

Yet Vidal doesn’t even blink, his eyes never leaving forward. “You know how to pilot a ship? Because waving biotics can be misconstrued as a threat.”

The complete uncaring in his voice only irks Sara further, as she now clenches the fist in warning. “Turn. It. Around.”

“So you can continue to be treated like royalty, so the Initiative can continue worshipping you like you’re their hope, until yet another section breaks off and becomes another rebellion?” Vidal responds coolly. And without warning, he turns his chair; Sara lifts her hand before she’s yanked along with it. Instead, she’s treated to an icy-hazel glance. “I’m doing you a favour, Ryder,” he says in a tone that exudes finality, but Sara isn’t having any of it.

“Is that why you saved my life?”

“I am an opportunist. I saw an opportunity, and I took it,” Vidal says dismissively.

“I’m supposed to thank you, then.”

Her captor sighs, running a hand through his hair, before reconvening at his lap. “You have no obligation to follow me once we land in Kadara. Although I advise you do,” he says, and Sara somehow _knows_ he’s being dead serious. “The locals don’t take to the words _Initiative_ or _Pathfinder_ very well.”

The local Angara haven’t been the most receptive to human contact, Sara knew; worse were the Kett. She’d learned that the first settlements on Eos ended in extermination thanks to that species, and it only served to irk her more knowing that she – her _family –_ could’ve prevented this. If they weren’t lost in space aboard the _Hyperion._

“The bottom line is,” Vidal is saying, “the Initiative and the Nexus is over. For all of us. But _especially_ you – because they’ll keep you around and you’re always going to be _waiting_ for the Hyperion. You’re here now, in Andromeda, and it’s time you started living.”

The words sit oddly in Sara, in a way she doesn’t quite understand. And there’s danger in his eyes, those hazels eyes and slick black hair and oddly crooked smile. There’s also an odd promise, too – one that Sara herself doesn’t understand and yet, despite her really _trying_ , she can’t find herself to actually be mad at him. Maybe it was because she knew he was right, or maybe it was that odd spark she could feel that made her limbs burn and her veins sing. It’s all so different and compelling and _captivating_ and Sara thinks that maybe, _maybe_ , this danger was something she’s always been craving, even back then at the bar when their eyes first met.

She swallows.

“Just get us to Kadara.”

And judging by the way his smirk never falters as Reyes turns back around, Sara knows that he’ll do just that.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was inspired to keep writing this, except I made a mistake -- I hadn't reread the first chapter in a while, and I wrote this while on the plane back from vacation .... in past tense. So I've updated this chapter to be aligned with the first chapter's tense, but my writing style in present tense is v different from when i'm in past tense (I tend to use present for fight scenes, which the first chap had a lot of... but this one doesn't) so I'm sorry if some of it reads a bit choppy. 
> 
> I also read the first two asoiaf novels while on vacation so maybe some of George RR Martin's style oozed into my writing. Oops! 
> 
> Also I don't know what those... boxes?? are called that you can see in Andromeda. So. I just sort of... made something up, lol

When Sara Ryder wakes up, it’s with a start.    
  
The memory of what happened the previous day must have exhausted her, for she can barely recall the details of what had happened. Bright lights swims in her vision as she sits up, her head ringing hollowly with thoughts and memories half-formed. Where  _ is _ she? It’s a cave, to be sure, but she isn't certain of much else.    
  
Her next sense to come back is her sense of smell, and it’s  _ damp _ . The aroma of dew and musk comes off the surrounding rocks, no doubt in part thanks to the odd, verdant moss that clings stubbornly to the glistening surfaces.    
  
She thinks her hearing comes back next, but she isn't sure. All she hears is a ringing silence. Maybe there’s a faint buzzing in her ears, but even that she can’t trust.    
  
And though she recognized the sour taste of bile in her mouth, it’s the rapidly sharpening image of a person, leaning against a cave, that catches her attention.    
  
His eyes are downcast, facial features aglow in an oddly blue-tinged light. His lips are pressed in a tight line, only parting to leash a swear. "Damned thing is broken." To whom he was talking to, she doesn't know.    
  
And as if he can sense her thoughts, his eyes rip from his omnitool and settle on hers. "You're awake," Reyes Vidal confirms more than observes.    
  
"Where are we?" Her voice is hoarse, almost broken.    
  
"Kadara," he says. Sara narrows her eyes. She vaguely remembers the name, to be frank: whispered on a wind,  _ somewhat habitable _ , they had said, and she had wrenched her head away before the gossipers could catch her eavesdropping. 

  
"Why?" She manages. Her throat is parched.    
  
Of all things, a half amused chuckle comes from beneath the unkempt facial hair. "There was a mutiny, remember, Ryder?"    
  
If she’s honest, she hadn't. But as soon as those words were spoken, it’s as if a spell finally lifts from her. Sara doesn't believe in magic, but the way her memories jigsaw together at his very words is quite peculiar to her equally-dazed mind. She can recall the gunfight, the loud ricocheting of bullets splattering above her head, the way she was caught unaware in the middle of the Nexus.    
  
And then him. Reyes Vidal. Her kidnapper.    
  
The very man merely quirks his lips into a half-smile. "Do me a favour would you? Can you check your omni tool?"    
  
Sara ignores him. She’s pleased to discover that her strength, at least, isn't as slow to come than her senses. She manages to push herself to her feet. Sara hears him shift in response to her movement, but she ignores that too, opting to merely head for where she swore she can see light filtering through the cavern.    
  
"Where do you think you're going?"    
  
"Out," she shoots to no one in particular, her voice echoing in the cave. "Somewhere else. Back to the Nexus."   
  
His voice is almost amused. "Don't tell me you've forgotten our conversation on that shuttle."   
  
Sara’s teeth grit in frustration. "Then away from you."   
  
"Don't think I can let you do that."   
  
"You don't have to  _ let me _ ," she responds, voice dripping with acid.    
  
His hands snake their way around her wrist, a grip far stronger than she had anticipated. "Kadara's a nasty place. Full of nasty creatures and horrible monsters and a terrible, terrible atmosphere." He pauses. "Have you been to Kadara before?"    
  
Sara tries to keep herself firm. "No," is her curt response.    
  
"I have," Vidal says matter of factly, as if that settles it. But she refuses to allow that be the final word.    
  
"So give me a gun," she insists.    
  
And somehow, without much effort at all, his grip wrenches her back. Sara finds herself pivoting around, as easily as if she’s merely a doll. Those hazel eyes consume her, dancing with a conviction that’s somehow both fire and ice at the same time.    
  
"I'm your kidnapper; don't tell me you've forgotten that too."   
  


* * *

  
If Sara had thought he was all talk before, now she’s certain that isn't the case. It had been adrenaline that first spurred her movement, but once true strength had returned to her limbs, he had taken the lead. And so they walk.    
  
And Sara can’t help but to think Kadara is  _ beautiful _ .    
  
The sky is awash with hues of pink and blue and gold, the cavernous rocky faces revealing to be the colour of tarnished amber rather than the muted grey she had thought she observed. Contrary to her initial expectation, the same odd smell of dampness persisted out in the open, bright with the tang of sulfur. Back in the Milky Way, it may have repulsed her. In Andromeda, though, the smell of nature and mineral and  _ something _ was doubly more welcome than the increasingly stale smell of the Nexus; triply so because it reminds Sara of the ocean.    
  
She realizes then where he was taking her. From where they walked, there is a small bundle of what she recognises as the standard Initiative living boxes stationed in an odd semi circle under a rocky overhang. Before she knows what’s happening, Vidal half-drags her up the metallic stairs, each one echoing hollowly with every step they take. And then he thumbs in a quick password, too fast for her to see, and before she has a chance to blink, the doors slide open with a pressurized hiss.    
  
Vidal turns to her expectantly. "Get comfortable. Don't touch the whiskey, though."    
  
She can't tell if he’s joking. Certainly there’s something in his expression that doesn't fit his kidnapper persona, but a look at the pistol that swings on his hip -- as well as what she assumes is a shot gun strapped to his back -- is more than enough for her her to take him seriously.    
  
Vidal ducks in behind her, thumbing again in a quick rhythm as the doors slide shut behind him. One single inhale tells Sara all she needs; the pressure she had felt since waking up had lifted, and she’s suddenly aware it hadn't been fatigue-induced at all.    
  
"Yeah," Reyes says, as if reading her mind. "The atmosphere isn't the most suitable for anyone from the Milky Way. I wasn't kidding about that either."   
  
"I kind of like the smell of sulfur," Sara says, though she’s not sure exactly what compels her to say as much.    
  
Of all things, Vidal laughs. "Of course you do. You're a Ryder, aren't you? The rumours are true."    
  
Sara inhales another breath in -- it truly reminds her of the Nexus now, complete with that lingering tinge of staleness. "What rumours?" she asks.    
  
Vidal's smile is back. "That you attract things that are most likely to harm you." And then he reaches behind a table. Her fist clenches instinctively, biotic energy pooling at her fingertips ... before his hand produces a -- bottle of whiskey, as it were. Vidal’s eyes never leave hers, even as he tips the bottle in her general direction before taking a generous swig.    
  
Sara says nothing as he places the bottle back on the table with a satisfied groan. The glass echoes oddly against the metallic surface. "You drink, Ryder?"    
  
"Not really," she replies, wooden.    
  
Vidal's expression doesn't falter. "I must confess, I do remember seeing you at a bar first." Any potential reply dies in her throat; that night seemed so long ago. If Reyes had been nostalgic at all, he doesn't show it. "I'm not sharing, by the way." He half-chuckles at his own joke; Sara merely crosses her arms.    
  
"Where are we?" she tries instead.    
  
Vidal doesn't answer her before he took another generous swig. "A standard issue living box, Ryder. If you meant outside, though," he adds, somewhat cheekily, "settlement 2. Settlement 1 is above us, where the initial exploration team landed."   
  
Sara decides she doesn't like the way he trickles information to her. It was no less satisfying that hammering a tap into a tree, only to receive a few droplets of water instead of a steady stream. Nevertheless, she does gather  _ something  _ from his words.   
  
"You were a pilot."   
  
"Once, sure," he gives her. And curiously, the bottle doesn't tip back this time -- he merely eyes her over the lip of the rim. "Are we  _ anyone _ now that we're not on the Nexus?"    
  
"You're a kidnapper," Sara says automatically.    
  
After another mouthful of whiskey, he only laughs.    
  


* * *

  
The door slides open.    
  
Sleep was still thick behind Sara's eyelids, and the filtered light did nothing to chase it away. She forces her body upright, disrupting the sheets underneath her.    
  
Reyes slides his way inside, pushing his helmet off and setting on the table. As fast as that tang of salt had filled her nostrils, the doors hisses shut again.    
  
Sara pouts. "I was enjoying that."    
  
"The smell of poisonous sulfur in the air?" He clicks his tongue. "You really like your flames, don't you, little moth?"    
  
It’s a bit of an odd nickname, sure, but he'd been calling her that recently, and maybe two days with no one but each others company had grated on him the same way it had grated on her. It’s made worse with the increasingly stale smell of air and the food rations that they had rustled up, all a part of the standardized box that she had learned once belonged Reyes here in Kadara, a lifetime not too long ago.    
  
Her nose wrinkles as he heaves what he had brought in over his shoulder, an odd animal that could've been a pyjak, and has a physiology that kind of reminds her of some game back on Earth.    
  
The contemplations swirl in Sara's mind before she notices him grabbing the kitchen knife. "Is that even edible?" she mutteres.    
  
Reyes must have heard her, for his knife pauses at the flank of whatever creature he had slain. He only laughs again, which she had also learned to be a common response of his when he thinks the answer was obvious. It  _ is _ , both obvious and edible. Doesn't stop her nose from scrunching, though, as Reyes begins to cut away the hide.    
  
"Fetch me a towel, won't you?" His tone is nonchalant. The sleep truly gone from her eyes now, she slides out of bed and walks around him, ignoring the sounds of sawing as she flips open a cabinet and pulls out a towel or two. Before long, the previously off-white linens stain to a curious shade of bright red; Reyes had flipped a pan onto the stove and the smell of frying meat begins to waft in the air.    
  
"Better than the smell of staleness, isn't it, Ryder?"    
  
She ignores him and the numb clawing of her oatmeal-and-dehydrated-foods-trained stomach. "Don't read my mind."    
  
He laughs again. "If anyone could do that, it'd be  _ you _ , little moth."   
  
She re-scrunches her nose. She'd tried threatening him with biotics, that first night. And he had invited her to, until he told her that, even if she had taken possessions of his firearms, she wouldn't survive on Kadara. The toxic atmosphere would kill her if she left the box, "and dying alone is a much more grizzly fate than if you have a companion. And besides," he had pulled out yet another disarming mystery object from under the table  -- this time, a small box-like package. "I have cards."    
  
They had played a lot of cards. Poker, mainly. He was good at Poker. And they’d talked, but Ryder knew most of the time he merely was deflecting or redirecting her questions, as masterful as his bluffing. And he let her take the bed, an odd gesture from a kidnapper in her opinion, but she wouldn't complain. If he was going to treat her with some form of hospitality, she'd take it, even though she didn't understand his motives. "You're a shit kidnapper," she’d told him the second night -- and of course, he’d only laughed at that.    
  
Sara decides that the meat is odd. Tough yet chewy, a flavour that isn't quite bacon. And salty, too, but maybe that’s the defining feature of Kadara. Salty.    
  
By the time she’s done eating, Reyes had made a rather harsh work of the rest of the carcass. Another portion sizzles on the pan as he hauls the remains out0 and disposes of them who knows where before returning. "Your omni tool?" he asks once he’s settled back in front of the cooking food.   
  
She blinks, then looks down at her wrist.. A few turns and some useless information later, "nothing," she admits.   
  
Reyes frowns. He tips the meat onto a plate and slides it across the counter, not bothering to start eating before he fixes his own wrist in front of him. He had tried to fix his omnitool when they first arrived, but Sara knew it was no more than mere fiddling. She could’ve offered to help. She didn’t.

His frown only grows deeper before he sighs and cuts himself a piece of meat, chewing derisively.  Sara stares at him, watching his jaw move with each chew. And then her gaze flicks to his wrist. "Let me take a look," Her voice says, and she doesn't really know why it does.    
  
Vidal looks just as intrigued. "At what?"    
  
"Your omni tool." At his blank gaze, Sara clicks her tongue. "I didn't just sit at the Nexus twiddling my thumbs. I helped with a bit of the tech department in the Initiative back in the Milky Way, you know."   
  
Reyes doesn't respond right away. "Guess there are some hidden depths to you yet," he finally says with a twinkle of amusement, and he thrusts his arm out. She takes a precursor glance, twisting his arm to catch certain facets of light, and immediately spots a few things off with it. A couple of the inner machinations just  _ slightly _ offset overtime, seemingly nothing but enough to throw off the delicate technology.    
  
"Toolset," she calls, her eyes never leaving that little bugger alone. When she hears the small package slide across the counter, Sara can swear she can also sense a lingering respect coming from him.    
  
She sets herself to work, listening to the sounds of him chewing and what almost seems like humming. She can feel his eyes on her, watching her fiddle with each piece as she carefully teases each layer of machinery from each other. "There," she proclaims as she set the cover back on. Reyes withdraws his arm and gives it a whirl, and the screen hums to life.    
  
"Thanks Ryder,” he says lazily as Sara can see him scrolling through unread messages, which there seems to be a lot of. “I -" he cuts himself off, his eyes suddenly sharp.    
  
"What?"    
  
"Jien is dead," Reyes says stiffly. The head of the initiative, Sara knows. She can remember meeting her a few times, with her father. Emotion suddenly swells at her throat -- another link to her family, gone -- but Reyes continues. "Kelly defected."   
  
" _ Sloane _ ?" The head of security, with her bright eyeshadow and stern gaze?    
  
Reyes doesn't immediately reply. "She  _ led _ the uprising. Ryder--" he suddenly adds, looking up. When they catch hers, chills race down her spine.    
  
"-- They're coming  _ here _ .”  

* * *

And just like that, Reyes Vidal -- whatever he had become in those three days together -- is her captor again.

When he fits the sole helmet over her head, Sara bites back a protest. There’s only one spare suit that’s stashed away in the living space, and therefore only one helmet to protect them from the sulfur. Maybe she’s developing some form of Stockholm Syndrome. Though truthfully, Reyes hadn't treated her badly at all. Or maybe that was just part of the whole thing in the first place. 

They pack lightly. She could tell the plan was forming in his head. He doesn't explain much. “Didn't think they would come… Never thought they'd kill her. We need to go…. Sorry Ryder, I know you liked the sulfur.”

There’s almost a rueful smile on his face, and she’s suddenly glad the tinted glass obscures her expression. Now, it seemed like a silly thing to preferred, almost selfish, entirely ignorant to the uprising that had broken out around her -- literally. She’s being herded again, like when they left the Nexus, and though the whole thing couldn't have taken place for more than an hour, in this moment it feels like it had been a lifetime. 

There’s a transport vehicle sitting parked a ways away. Something in Sara feels a bit betrayed, if not annoyed, that she hadn't noticed it the first time around. 

Once the doors hissed shut, Sara wrestles off the helmet. “Where are we going to go?”

“Settlement 2-B,” Reyes responds, his eyes never leaving the wheel. The vehicle buzzes with life, a quiet hum underneath her rear. “It's not too far from here.”

“2... _ B?  _ What's at 2-B?”

There’s a long silence, and Sara can tell in her gut that he was very much considering not answering. Then he must’ve decided to otherwise, though his tone careful. “People,” he says vaguely. And yet those two syllables on caused a sudden discomfort to settle in the base of her stomach. 

“ _ People _ ? Why didn't we go there in the first place?”

“I need to have some hidden depths too,” Reyes says lightly, but Sara knows better. 

She knows  _ him _ better, now. 

So Sara says nothing, only pressing her lips thinner and thinner with every passing minute on the transport. He somehow knows the roads quite well, and part of her grows increasingly angrier. Here she thought they were the only two on Kadara from the Milky Way, when he knew of others who were there. It frustrates her, makes her feel silly, makes her feel powerless, makes her feel like a hostage. 

“Helmet,” he finally says. She follows his order and plucks her helmet back on, the accompanying hiss guaranteeing the helmet’s life support system active. And then he parks the vehicle right by another cave. 

“This place nearly killed us last time,” Sara mutters. 

Reyes ignores her, until he hops out the vehicle and releases her door. “Don't be dramatic,” he says as Sara fell in step behind him. 

It isn't the same cave as before, Sara knows at least that much based off their travel distance alone. Yet Vidal stalks his way through the twists and turns of the cave system, as if he’s been here before. She can't smell anything beyond the helmet, Sara notes idly as she follows him with growing caution. Where is he taking her? The theories swirl abundant, each more ludicrous than the one before. 

What she doesn't include in her theories is a semi translucent blue barrier, a bubble around -- she squints -- a small settlement that’s further along than the deserted 2. 

And 2-B is certainly not deserted. 

Reyes steps through the bubble first, and then she does. Her body already feels lighter, like it had the first time they’d entered his standardized box. She doesn't need his gestures to know it’s safe to take off her helmet; she was also surprised that the air smelled clean. And maybe only slightly tinged with sulfur. 

“People?” Sara asks quietly. 

Reyes doesn't lift his sight from the settlement, the quiet hustle and bustle of civilization that she had missed these past three days. “Hidden depths,” he corrects suddenly, and part of his voice seems like he regretted exposing them, too. 

 


End file.
